


Picture Perfect

by LPAnon



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-03-17 13:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPAnon/pseuds/LPAnon
Summary: AU Beca is a very successful photographer who has been asked to shoot an up and coming actress, Chloe Beale. Both women find that within the span of one photoshoot, a connection is forged unlike any either has ever experienced. Lots of flirting. Lots of bantering. Lots of falling for someone you're not supposed to fall for.





	1. Chapter 1

“Beca.” The sound of her best friend and personal assistant snaps the photographer out of her trance. Looking up from her editing, Beca sees the blonde Australian poking her head around the white door of her office. “Your next client is here.”

Beca groans internally and runs her fingers through her messy chestnut waves, attempting to wake herself up. Last night had been a late one for the small brunette, much like many nights before. Apart from being an award winning photographer, Beca Mitchell was considered quite the womanizer, despite her objections. As a responsponse to the questions about her love life, she would state that, despite her packed schedule and difficulty finding time to actually date, she simply enjoyed the company of beautiful women. Granted, not all of her pursuits led to sex; not all of them didn’t.

“Thanks, Amy,” she sighs as she picks up her travel mug. “Go ahead and start setting up her lighting. I’ll be right out.”

Tossing back the remainder of the lukewarm mixture that could barely be called coffee, she saves her progress on her MacBook before closing the chrome screen and standing up. Brushing imaginary dust from her fitted jeans, the exhausted artist strides out of her office.

The top floor of the Manhattan building was Beca’s pride and joy. Once she had the funds from a few high profile shoots, she bought the entire floor, which had been nothing more than a rundown warehouse when it had come into her possession. Leaving the rustic brick walls, she and Amy had installed cherry oak floors to cover the hodgepodge colored concrete, set up blackout curtains over the long windows, outside of which was the bustling city and, just beyond, Ellis Island and the proud Lady Liberty. It was this view, of the city that never sleeps, that originally drew her to the space; the view of life just below her acting as constant reminder of why she became a photographer.

At the back of the warehouse was stored props, backdrops, and lighting equipment, for when the stubborn New York weather made it impossible to shoot on location or use the natural lighting the stubborn woman thought would be provided by the top floor of the tall building. A couple of assistants are currently running back and forth between that space and her stage, draping red velvet over a cream colored sofa with claw feet, adding vintage lamps, to a mahogany side table, and hanging generic paintings on a dark red wallpapered flat that had been set up to give the backdrop to today’s shoot, the theme: vintage burlesque.

The shoot today is for a new TV show, yet another vampiric love triangle, a trend that Beca had hoped would die with Twilight.

Slightly more awake than she had been a few minutes ago, Beca scans the space for the blonde that had interrupted her quiet time.

Her eyes land on the stout Australian, standing across from another blonde. The newcomer, although blonde, was the complete opposite of the photographer’s best friend. While Amy only stood an inch or two taller than Beca, the woman across from her was practically amazonian. If Beca didn’t known better, she would think the severe woman currently speaking to her personal assistant would be the person in front of her camera today, with a shark-like smile and perfectly coiffed blonde hair. But Beca knows better.

As it was, the photographer knows she should be searching for the pretty redhead who’s headshot had been sent over the other day. Pulling her eyes away from the woman that was obviously the actress’ handler, she finally spots her subject. Her subject that she definitely wasn’t ready for.

Standing right behind the blonde is another woman. To call her beautiful would be an understatement.

Clad in tight black leggings that show off toned legs and a sheer grey baggy t-shirt, through which the well trained eye of the brunette could see a black bandeau and a tantalizing tease of porcelain skin, the actress stares around the large space, taking in the view from the window as well as the people setting up the set where she would be posing, obviously uninterested in the legal speak her handler and Amy are currently engaged in. Clear, sky blue eyes land on Beca and heart shaped lips smile professionally. This woman was obviously used to being stared at in the slack-jawed way the photographer was staring at her.

Beca’s reverie is broken when the actress, the brunette searches her mind for the name that was on the folder containing her contract with the studio and the headshots, Chloe Beale, ran her slim fingers through her luscious red curls and turned back to the conversation in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Amy beckoning her over. 

Clearing her throat, Beca smooths out her white v-neck t-shirt and strides over, plastering on the most professional smile she can muster.

“This is Beca Mitchell, your photographer,” The cheerful blonde announces as Beca nears the group.

The shark-like smile of the amazonian blonde turns on the brunette, making her feel smaller than she ever has before. “Aubrey Posen.” A perfectly manicured hand is thrust in Beca’s direction and the photographer has no choice but to shake it. “I’m Miss Beale’s handler.”

The strong grip on Beca’s hand only makes the small brunette even more intimidated. “Beca Mitchell. Pleased to meet you.” She’s surprised at her own voice and impressed with herself for not showing the fear that the amazon-- erm, Aubrey, inspired.

A musical voice sounds from next to Aubrey, “And I’m--”

“Chloe Beale,” Beca interrupts the actress and turns her attention back to her model for the day. She's even more stunning up close. From here, Beca could see that the redhead had already been through hair and makeup, as demonstrated by the smoky eyeshadow surrounding the beautifully clear irises that Beca is two steps away from diving into. Even as a seasoned photographer, the brunette had never seen eyes that shone with such crystalline innocence as the ones in front of her.

“Do you often make it a habit of interrupting your model?” Despite her words, Chloe’s tone is teasing and her lips quirk up in a kind smile.

‘Feisty.’ Beca thinks to herself. ‘I like it.’ 

“Only the ones I like,” the brunette shoots right back with the same teasing tone and a wink.

The laugh that falls from Chloe’s perfectly painted lips is much like her eyes: crystalline and perfect. Beca can feel the comfortable vibes pouring off the actress in waves.

Those eyes that Beca quickly became obsessed with scan the small brunette head to toe, taking in the photographer’s own comfortably hip outfit as well as the tired circles under her eyes. As unused to being the object of scrutiny, the soft features and oddly soothing presence of Chloe make her feel perfectly at ease.

Beca quirks a playful eyebrow when clear blue eyes finally meet her own stormy ones. 

“So, Chloe. Should we get started?”


	2. Chapter 2

“No way, Bree,” Chloe declares firmly as she stands in front of the body length mirror, staring helplessly at herself in the black lace negligee. The combination of the satin teddy, crimson trim, and four inch pumps gives the normally light and happy actress less of a sexy vampire look and more of a… five dollar hooker look. 

“Chlo…” her exhausted handler sighs with exasperation, having known the redhead would object to the ensemble the second she had seen it for herself. It had been a struggle, akin to getting a toddler to go to bed, getting Chloe into the racy outfit. “You have to. It’s what the network approved.” 

With a loud, dramatic whine only an actress could muster, Chloe collapses onto the small couch in the office that the photographer had begrudgingly turned into a dressing room for the day. 

“I look like a whore,” she pouts up at her handler, knowing the blonde has a weakness for Chloe’s puppy eyes, a weakness that the redhead exploits as often as possible.

She can see the normally stoic blonde beginning to break down when she catches a flash of brown and white out of the corner of her eye.

“Holy shit, you do.”

Both women whip around at the teasing voie to find the photographer staring at Chloe like she is about to beckon her over for a lap dance. 

The comment didn’t bother Chloe. The redhead had always been confidant in her own skin; she knew she was beautiful. She worked very hard for her lean body and soft curves. What she didn’t like was the network debasing her by putting her into an outfit fit for the queen of the strip club.

Groaning, she deflates into the couch even more as her ever loyal best friend and handler jumps to her defense. 

“Were you raised in a barn?! Who the Hell taught you to speak to women?!” The blonde snaps, moving to stand in front of Chloe protectively.

Throwing her hands up protectively, Beca steps more fully into the room. “Woah. Hey,” she says warily, skirting around the furious blonde on her way over to the wardrobe rack that she had provided just in case. “I was just agreeing with her.” Turning to the actress, she addresses her directly. “Why are you wearing that?”

The redhead’s anger grows, her chest flushing to match her hair. “It’s what YOUR wardrobe people put me in!” she snaps at the cocky artist.

“Then let ME fix it,” the brunette scoffs and turned around to scan the rack. 

The light shines through the window to catch brunette hair as the photographer runs her fingers in it, illuminating a myriad of colors hidden in the brown, from dark umber to a few strands of blonde. It is a perfect blend that women spend hours sitting in a salon chair trying to achieve. Despite the straight-out-of-the-box look, Chloe has no doubt that the color was completely natural, just like everything else about the sarcastic photographer. From the wit that rolled off her tongue, to the easy, yet comfortable, stance she stood in, there is something refreshingly genuine about the artist. 

“38B, 5 bottoms?”

The voice, surprisingly deep and velvety for someone so small, cuts through Chloe’s admiring thoughts, but Aubrey cuts in before she can answer.

“This is the outfit the network approved,” she repeats firmly, squaring her shoulders and placing her hands on her hips.

“Then the network can take their own damn pictures,” Beca glares over her shoulder.

Chloe couldn’t suppress the impressed smile. She had never seen anybody but herself stand up to Aubrey Posen like that. Aubrey Posen, on the other hand, was taken aback. Nobody had spoken to her like that in a very long time. 

Crossing her arms over her chest, she steps aside, still glaring at the brazen photographer.

“Size 6 bottoms, actually,” Chloe nods.

Turning back to the rack, Beca pulls down a few items of clothing before walking over to the actress. “What about this?” She holds the outfit out and smiles.

Taking the clothing from the smaller woman, Chloe is instantly mollified by her kindness. Nodding, she smiles back as she examines the outfit.

“Perfect. Now get out.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post! We can't promise a set update schedule, but we can promise that we haven't forgotten about this and fully intend on finishing it someday.

The camera lens nearly shatters in the small photographer's hand.

Looking up from where she is setting the needed camera equipment, pure sex strides over to the stage in the form of Chloe Beale. Beca’s gaze starts from the bottom, marvelling at the ease in which the actress practically glides, even while wearing a pair of black, red soled pumps. Next, her gaze caresses the strong, perfectly sculpted legs, bringing her eyes to the high waisted, black satin shorts that perfectly hug the curves the brunette had barely glimpsed beneath the sheer shirt the redhead had arrived in. Muscular abs lead to a matching black bra that pushes up perfect, creamy breasts, giving a tantalizing view of cleavage Beca would love to dive face first into. The entire look is finished off with a billowing black satin robe.

The photographer is snapped out of when her view of the wonderful chest is interrupted by long fingers waving in front of her face. 

“Eyes up here.” The actress points to her own face, which is wearing a small smirk. 

Beca gapes at the smug redhead for a few seconds before chastising herself for blatantly objectifying the woman. Mumbling an apology, the photographer hides her face in her camera equipment until she can force the embarrassed blush to go away. Motioning behind herself to the couch, she mumbles into the camera lens that she’s taking a little extra time screwing onto the camera, “Please, uh, sit down over there.”

Doing as she’s told, Chloe perches herself on the couch, crossing her ankles demurely and pulling the robe tightly around herself. Turning around, Beca senses her model’s discomfort. The fire that had thrived under the gaping stare of the artist had been put out by the stares of the rest of the people in the studio.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Beca turns around and walks over to where her has gathered to watch the magic that Beca works during her photoshoots. “Go ahead and take an early lunch, guys,” she speaks quietly so the timid model behind her can’t hear her. The crew all mumble under their breaths and clear their throats, walking away and gathering their belongings before shuffling out the door.

Turning back to Chloe, she sees the discomfort significantly lessened in her posture. Even with her ankles still crossed and the robe tugged around herself like protective armor, her shoulders are no longer squared and her expression is one of curiosity instead of trepidation.

“Where… where’d everyone go?” The redhead watches Beca pick up her camera and fiddle with it. Even Amy and Aubrey had been sent away, and for that, the actress is grateful. She loves her best friend. She really does. But there was something unnerving about having the woman that she lays in bed with, eating ice cream and binge watching The Bachelorette, watch her as she poses provocatively.

“I sent them away. I figured it would make you more comfortable.” The brunette smiles down at her camera. This is her job, and she’s damn good at it. Finally glancing up at the redhead, she watches the tension melt away from her posture. Lifting her camera up, she keeps the smile, enchanted by the way Chloe seems so at ease in her company. “I’m gonna take some warm up shots, if that’s cool.”

Chloe nods, allowing the robe to fall apart just a smidge. “Yeah, of course,” she smiles gratefully. “Thank you.”

The photographer shrugs and flashes a disarming smile right before lifting the camera and taking a few snaps of the actress. “No problem at all.” Click. “Tell me about this show.”

Beca watches the actress perk up through the camera and immediately captures the look on film.

“Well, you were right about it being a sexy vampire show,” she grins and watches the photographer walk around, hiding her face behind the clunky, expensive looking camera. Her passion is evident in her voice. “I play the main character, who’s caught up in a love triangle between two five hundred year old brothers.”

“Sounds scandalous,” the photographer teases and squats down to take a few more pictures. “You whore.”

A rich, full laugh fills the studio. Beca can’t help but take a snapshot of the actress, with her head tilted back, her eyes sparkling with mirth, her face completely brightened, and her nervous still slightly nervous posture melted away to show a completely different side of Chloe Beale.

Lowering the camera, Beca smiles back at the woman in front of her, for once allowing herself to enjoy the life in front of her, rather try to capture it on film.

As the now completely relaxed actress calms down, Beca lifts the camera again, hiding the wondrous expression on her face, resuming her pictures.

For a few minutes, Chloe speaks about the plot of her show, and her love of the books that it’s based on. Beca listens avidly, taking pictures of the dreamy expression as she gets a rundown of the, and Beca hates to admit it, extremely interesting sounding show.

As the conversation dwindles, Beca begins taking slightly more professional shots, subtly directing her model in more provocative poses that match the theme of the shoot.

Beca easily transitions into Professional Photographer mode as Chloe sits quietly and lets the artist mold her body. It’s just as Beca is reaching up to brush a lock of fiery hair away from crystal eyes with the scruitious eye of a photographer that the actress breaks the silence.

“What about you, Miss Photographer?” she asks thoughtfully, leaning her elbows on her knees and unknowingly giving Beca a facefull of cleavage. “Is this what you’ve always wanted to do?”

“Not by a long shot.” Beca is almost surprised by the words that come out of her mouth. She didn’t know why she felt so comfortable with the stranger in front of her. “I thought I’d be a musician but then it just never worked out for me. A competitive field that one is. Not to say that photography and acting aren’t too. Music was just…too vulnerable for me, I guess. In photography I can say what I want to say while still being able to hide behind the camera. No one has to know that I’m the one saying it.”

Beca’s jaw clamps shut. She has no idea why she just said that. This stunning actress has gotten more out of the photographer than any magazine or interviewer ever has in the past. The immediate connection and comfortable repartee the two had established in the past hour is going to get the small brunette in trouble, she just knew it.

Clearing her throat, Beca plasters on her normal charming smile in order to hide the thoughts running rampant in her brain. “Can you take off the robe for me?” She asks, falling back into her professional headspace.

Chloe cocks her eyebrow, obviously noticing the subtle change in the woman in front of her, but deciding not to point it out as she slowly drags the satin down her arms.

The two are quiet for a moment, the only sound filling the room is the soft click of the camera as Beca returns to her work, snapping pictures of the thoughtful look on her companion’s face.

And then, as if she’s uncomfortable by the silence that had settled around them, Choe speaks up. 

“I understand. I love music I just don’t think I could ever write songs or perform for a live audience. I’m not very interesting so I count on acting to give me personalities that are fun and relatable…instead of boring and predictable.” Her eyes fall to her hands, laced together demurely in her lap as she speaks. 

Without hesitating, the brunette lowers the camera and strides over. Placing deceptively long fingers beneath the strong chin of the actress, she tilts Chloe’s face so crystal eyes meet her own gunmetal blue. “I think you’re interesting.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You don’t even know me.” Chloe’s voice isn’t harsh or condescending, simply truthful. Maintaining eye contact, she reaches up to wrap her hand around Beca’s wrist loosely and gently but firmly, she removes the hand from under her chin and replaces it on the camera, indicating that the brunette should continue doing her job. 

Beca simply shrugs and reaches down, easily hooking her arm under the actress’ legs and guiding them to lay on the couch. Chloe tries to ignore how soft the hands of the woman are as well as the shiver that is sent up her body when a rather intrusive thought makes itself known.

‘I wonder how those hands would feel elsewhere…’

Chloe clears her throat just as Beca subtly shakes her head, as if she can hear the redhead’s thoughts. She’s almost relieved when the photographer takes a few steps back and resumes snapping pictures.

“Lean your forearm on the couch there,” Beca instructs, her voice mirroring the distraction that Chloe is feeling. “I think I know enough about you to think you’re interesting.”

Chloe’s perfectly plucked eyebrows arch in disbelief. She hadn’t told the small photographer anything about herself, let alone anything to make the striking brunette think she was interesting. 

‘She’s just schmoozing you, Beale. That’s her job. To make you feel confident,’ a voice inside her head that sounded eerily similar to Aubrey quipped. The actress almost rolled her eyes at herself. There she went again, thinking--hoping--that someone had finally understood her.

“And what, pray tell, is it that you think you know about me, Mitchell?” Her normally gentle voice came out unintentionally clipped, and she immediately regretted the words when she saw Beca’s face fall slightly behind the camera.

Quickly gathering herself, the typically cocky photographer scrambles for words.

“Apart from what you just told me? I think you’re a wallflower.” Beca speaks far too quickly, as if still putting the puzzle together for herself in her mind. “You hide behind baggy and dull clothes even though you are stunning and have a killer body. You’re overly cautious and it seems like you have this idea of who I am. That I’m some player, lost soul, photographer that can’t be tamed. And you’ve already decided that you wouldn’t give me the time of day even if I fell head over heels in love with you, Chloe Beale.”

The room falls silent for a few moments. The clicking of the camera acts like a hand on a clock, click, click, clicking away the seconds while the women stare at each other.

“Well I’ll be damned…” the actress whispers with an air of disbelief, still processing the words that came out of the other woman’s mouth. “You’re even more idiotic than I originally thought.”

Chloe watches a cocky smirk grow on Beca’s face, then internally high-fives herself when her last few words wipe it away in one fell swoop.

The look on the small brunette’s face is almost comedic as she drops her camera and once again begins scrambling for words. Eventually, Chloe takes pity on the obviously struggling woman and jumps in to save her.

“No actress is a true wallflower,” she explains with a tilt of her head and a small cocky grin. “I rather enjoy getting attention. I wear simple clothes to photo shoots because they’re easy to change in and out of and I want to come in without the stylists already having a preconceived notion of what it is that I ‘like’ or what ‘fits my style’. In reality, I love prints and bright colors.” 

Her tone drops to a flirtatious husk and she leans forward slightly, giving Beca a perfect view of the cleavage that will be sure to pop into the photographer’s head later tonight. “I do have an idea of your reputation but I don’t think you can’t be tamed. Everyone can be tamed. It just takes the right ring leader.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The scene plays out in Beca’s head for hours after a team of handlers swept the actress away at the end of the photoshoot. The image plagued her to the point where she couldn’t focus on the artsy black and white shots of Coney Island currently on her screen.

Growling to herself, she picks up a small blue stress ball and leans back in her chair, tossing it up in the air and watching it fall back down, only to catch it milliseconds before it hits her face, but even that distraction isn’t enough and she finds herself holding the ball up under the fluorescent lights and comparing the color to that of the Heaven-esque blue of the actress’ eyes.

Finally caving in, Beca tosses the ball over her shoulder, not bothering to pay attention to it long enough to find out where it lands, and reaches for her computer once more. Exiting out of her editing program, she internally berates herself for her weakness as she opens the folder containing the shots taken earlier today and skims through, landing on a specific one.

Beca double clicks on the photo and the object of her thoughts fills the screen. It’s Chloe, serenely gazing into the camera, face slightly flushed with the hint of a smile. From the smoke laced eyes and the deep crimson of her lips, to the absolute sinfulness of her outfit, to the way the sun set through the windows across the studio and sent Chloe’s already beautiful skin into an ethereal glow, with slight freckles standing out boldly against the light. She had looked like a fallen angel. The picture had been taken right after her laughter at something Beca had said died out.

Relaxing into her chair again, the photographer steeples her fingers in front of her lips and takes her time mapping out the contours of the face in front of her with her own steely blues. Unable to keep it in, even while completely alone save for the image in front of her, a small smile curves her lips up and her whole face softens as Chloe’s teasing tone plays in a loop inside her head like a song.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks after their first meeting, Beca still has Chloe on her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so sorry for the long breaks between updates! Thank you so much for the support, and please, PLEASE leave some comments about what you think of the story so far.

It has been two weeks since they wrapped the shoot. Two weeks since Chloe Beale had begun to worm her way into Beca’s everyday thoughts. Two weeks since the pictures were sent off to Entertainment Weekly. Two weeks since the folder of pictures had become a permanent fixture on the photographer’s computer.

Both the magazine and the studio had gone wild over the final products, and beca didn’t blame them; Chloe Beale looked like the personification of a warm apple pie, fresh out of grandma’s oven with whipped cream on top…

...damn, Beca is hungry.

The small brunette’s mind wanders as she hauls herself out of her desk chair and meanders over to the small mini fridge sitting in the corner of her office. She hadn’t been with any women since the day of the photo shoot. Not because of Chloe, no. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. She’s just been… busy. As Chloe had laughingly pointed out, they barely knew each other. After the actress had corrected Beca’s arduous, yet severely incorrect, break down of her, they’d finished the shoot with little more than small talk. So why is she so hung up on her?

The sun is setting, but it’s difficult to tell through the sheets of rain that pound against the windows of the studio, occupied only by the photographer. It isn’t uncommon for Beca to spend her nights alone in her little piece of the world, and she quite enjoyed that. It’s nights like this when she actually gets her work done, except that was difficult with her stomach making noises not unlike that of a whale in heat.

Opening the mini fridge, she scans it in search of something to keep her stomach from emaciating, but only finds a few bottles of water and a sad looking Hot Pocket sitting on the lower self. Grimacing to herself, she grabs the over-processed snack food and wonders to herself what would be waiting inside.

Setting about preparing her pitiful excuse for dinner, Beca hums to herself the song that has been stuck in her head all day. While the microwave whirs to life, stormy blue eyes land on a guitar sitting beside the couch.

The Gibson had been gifted to her by her grandfather when she was 14, and Beca smiles to herself as her fingers wrap around the sleek neck and lift it. Lounging herself lengthwise on the couch, nimble fingers begin plucking out a melody on the copper strings of her one true love as if it is her second nature. 

Soon, the melody becomes the song that has been running through her head all day. Unable to recall the name of the song, or even the artist, she begins singing quietly to herself.

“I’m bulletproof nothing to lose, fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim, fire away, fire away. You shoot me down but I won’t fall, I am titanium….”

“You shoot me down but I won’t fall, I am titanium.”

Beca’s head shoots up and her fingers falter when a soft voice joins her own velvety tone in harmony. Standing her doorway and looking like the most attractive gutter rat to ever exist is the very woman that has been occupying her thoughts for the past few weeks. Her normally copper toned hair is drenched, giving it a darker, more rust-like look and a rich sapphire raincoat dripped onto the wooden floor, creating a puddle around a pair of stiletto, high ankle boots.

Beca couldn’t find it in herself to care about the inevitable water damage.

“Chloe?” Beca’s voice is laced with shock as she stares wide eyed at the goddess incarnate standing in her doorway. Before the actress has the chance to answer, the brunette sets her instrument down and darts up, striding over to a cabinet where she keeps various household items, necessities for her long nights of staying at the office. Pulling out a large, fluffy towel, Beca strode over to the dripping actress and held it out to her. When Chloe gave the towel a curious look, Beca quickly explained. “I come straight to work after the gym, and there’s a shower down the hall,” she said offhandedly before continuing. “What are you doing here?”

“Was that a subtle brag about your workout techniques?” Chloe teases as she accepts the answer to her unasked question as well as the towel. The redhead sighs as she begins wringing her hair dry. “I was at an interview and couldn’t find a taxi, so I just started walking. Then the electricity went out down the street and I had a slight panic attack before realizing that I was close to your studio. I was hoping you’d be here. Can I hang out while I dry off a bit and call a taxi?”

Beca almost sags visibly. So Chloe _hadn’t_ come just to see Beca. Steeling herself against her own emotions, the photographer plasters on a smile.

“Gotta relieve the tension somehow.” Beca winks before turning around to give her guest some privacy as she begins stripping out of her wet clothes. 

Out of the corner of her eye, the brunette catches a glimpse of creamy porcelain skin where the button of the redhead’s coat catches on the neckline of her dress before Chloe adjusts her clothes to protect her modesty. When the brunette turns around again, Chloe is clad in a black, form fitting lace dress with cobalt blue undertones.

“I wonder why the power hasn’t gone out h-- well, fuck.”

Just as the photographer is mid-muse about the current state of the building’s electricity, the room goes black.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite her best attempts, Chloe starts feeling something she really shouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one month?! Hell must really be freezing over. As always, please leave some comments if you're enjoying the story.
> 
> I'm very sorry to say that this work will likely not be finished. Thank you so much for your support and please check out both LPAnon and liz0stone's other works.

Chloe fumbled with her purse, quickly pulling out her phone and turning the flashlight on to ward off the darkness/ Beca jumped when she turned around, only to be blinded by the light. Scowling into the darkness, she lifted her hand to shield her eyes.

“Beca…?” Chloe’s whispered from behind the light before lowering her phone. Now able to make out the face of her guest, thanks to the glow of the flashlight that is now being pointed at the ground, Beca frowned when she saw a look of anxiety etched into Chloe’s soft features.

With a quiet chuckle, Beca reached out and took the phone from the hand of the redhead, using the light to help her see around the office as she walked back to the cupboard where she had pulled towel out of.

“Why are you whispering?” Beca teased over her shoulder, attempting to lighten the mood as she began pulling out candles of various sizes and setting them round the room.

“Because it’s dark,” the redhead kept her voice quiet, despite the teasing. She had always hated the dark, and held tightly to her childhood fear of the evil that lurks within it.

Turning to look at Chloe, Beca looked at her with an arched eyebrow and a humored smirk. The redhead was clutching the towel in front of her with both hands. Seeing the terror in the way Chloe’s hunched shoulders shook softened Beca and made her frown slightly as she hurried to light the candles she had strategically placed around the office.

“No monsters are going to hear you, Chloe,” she said as the room brightened.

The actress scoffed as she strode over to the couch. A few seconds later, a pillow hit the shorter woman in the back of the head and she whipped around. Now bathed in the candlelight, Chloe had tossed the towel over the couch and sat down on top of it.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Beca chastised as she walked over to sit down beside Chloe, picking up the guitar from her spot and settling it in her lap.

Chloe’s normal teasing confidence had returned along with the light and she rolled eyes, but let the subject drop, instead motioning around them at the candles creating a subtle ambiance around them. “Do you always do this for your damsels in distress?”

“Is that jealousy I hear, Miss Beale?” Beca teased as she began idly plucking at the guitar strings. “Don’t worry; you’re my one true bae.” She rolled her head to grin at Chloe as she spoke.

Chloe opened her mouth to respond but stopped, wondering where this banter had come from. She hadn’t even known why she came up here. She could’ve just as easily called Aubrey or Chicago. Although, God knows that Chicago probably would’ve taken that as a declaration of love. Ever since their third date when Chloe had decided that it wasn’t working for her, he had been on her case relentlessly about a “second chance”.

“Don’t say that word.” The actress grimaced as she relaxed back into the couch, facing Beca and watching her fingers dance over the strings. “I don’t get the concept. Is it an abbreviation for ‘babe’? If so, then why? Babe is already one syllable. How can you possibly shorten-”

“It means ‘Before Anyone Else,’” the photographer cut her off and rolled her eyes before closing them.

Chloe took this time to really study the photographer, as she tucked her legs under her body and angled herself towards her. Beca truly was a gorgeous woman. The actress noted that the brunette seemed to have a usual stye as her eyes ran over her faded jeans and black v-neck shirt that very closely resembled the outfit she had worn during their first meeting. Letting her gaze continue to assess the other woman’s features, she noticed the sharp slope of her nose and the defined structure of her collarbone. Chloe wanted to run her tongue over that collarbone…

Where the  _ hell  _ had  _ that  _ come from?!

Chloe did all she could to try and ignore the warm feeling brought on by the candles, the guitar, and, most of all, by  _ Beca _ . It was all very romantic and it was doing nothing for the unwelcome thoughts that had plagued her mind since the last time she had seen the small brunette. While Chloe was fairly open about her sexuality, and, in some cases, flaunted it, she had never felt such a strong attraction to anyone as the one she felt toward the photographer.

“How long have you been playing?” Chloe asked, attempting to distract herself from the not so innocent thoughts running rampant through her mind. She leaned her elbow on the back of the couch, resting her head on her fist, facing Beca fully now.

Beca continued to strum without opening her eyes, “Since I was 8. My grandpa taught me. This was his guitar. And let me tell you,” she grinned to herself, as if remembering a long forgotten happy memory, “he sure knew how to shred it.”

“I imagine it wouldn’t be hard with a Gibson 1960 Hummingbird as your instrument.”

Beca’s eyes flew open and she stared at the redhead in disbelief. The actress, stifling a laugh at the borderline comedic expression on the face of the smaller woman, continued speaking.

“My father owns a music store in the mall back home,” she explained with humor lacing her voice. “I used to work there when I was a teenager. May I?” Chloe extended her hand, gesturing towards the instrument with her long fingers. 

Beca looked down at her guitar and the actress could see the trepidation painting her features, but that was gone in less than two seconds and the smaller woman handed over the guitar willingly. It had been a while since the redhead had played, but the second the instrument had settled into her lap, her fingers flew to to the frets like they were coming home. She tested the strings, plucking each one individually before strumming down. Once she had gotten the feel of the guitar, her fingers began plucking out the melody that that Beca had abandoned when Chloe had made her presence known.

“You shout it out, but I can’t hear a word you say. I’m talking loud not saying much…” Chloe’s voice was timid at first, but grew stronger with every word that left her mouth. “I’m criticized, but all your bullets ricochet. You shoot me down, but I get up.”   
  


Glancing up, Chloe’s eyes met the stormy grey ones that seeed locked on her face. Beca’s lips were parted in awe, and they gave Chloe enough confidence to continue. Smiling with encouragement, the redhead’s face pleaded for the brunette to sing with her.

“I’m bulletproof nothing to lose, fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim, fire away, fire away…”

In all her years of performing, the actress had never met anyone whose voice blended with hers so perfectly and naturally. She kept her eyes on the photographer as they sang, instinctively switching to the higher vocals while Beca took on the lower harmony.

  
“You shoot me down but I get up, I am Titanium…You shoot me down but I get up….”  
  
  
Chloe stopped playing and gave Beca a small smile before softly finishing, “I am titanium.”  
  
  
And Chloe knew her heart was in trouble.


End file.
